Dragons of the Dead and Dying
by Lachwen
Summary: Sequel to Dragons of the Past and Present.
1. Chapter One: Strangers from a Distant La...

"Does the walker choose the Path,  
  
Or the Path the Walker?"1  
  
Harry pulled out his wand, whispered Lumos, and prepared to see his nighttime visitors. 'Free Magic1' the nearest one whispered hoarsely. Then Harry found himself looking straight at three of the deadliest looking blades he had ever seen…  
  
At that instant, Hermoine choose to make her appearance, having woken in the girls' dorm at the same time as Harry and Ron. 'What's all this then?' she exclaimed at the sight of Harry with three swords pointed at him. 'Who are you?'  
  
'I am the Abhorsen, Lirael.' The leader stated. 'My companions are Sam the Wallmaker, The charter mage Nickolas, Yrael, and the Disreputable Dog.'  
  
'The Abhorsen!' Harry exclaimed. 'The one in that dream just now! You were fighting Voldemort, and you rang that bell and we all seemed to vanish…'  
  
Lirael took a closer look at Harry, and let out a breath. 'I do not know about this …Voldemort? but you appear to be the child Voldemort had captured in a dream I had quite a while ago. How can this be?'  
  
'Voldemort was using some kind of orb that allowed him to gather us all to meet our deaths or something. I don't really understand exactly what Tas said. Did you see what happened to him? I lost sight of him after Voldemort captured me, and I didn't see him in that river.'  
  
'No. I saw no one else. Perhaps he had already traveled past the first gate when we came to it.'  
  
'Wait- Lirael. What's this all about? Why were you going into death with them? What is bloody going on here?' Asked the one introduced as Nickolas.  
  
'I had a dream that I was fighting Kithliun, only he had become one of the GreaterDead. He summoned a host of DeadHands, and I wasn't doing so well.' She avoided their eyes. 'I managed to ring Astarael, and it swept all within hearing range into death. I do not know how many gates they passed. For all I know they only passed the first, and could easily come back. I did not want to worry you with a dream. This child was there. I was forced to ring Astarael anyway. It was probably a mercy, for if the dream was true than you would have been pulled apart or made into one of the undead yourself. I would like to know what our being here means, though.'  
  
Her companions were staring at her.  
  
'You rang Astarael?' Sam blurted. 'The Weeper? Lirael. How bad was it really? You should never ring Astarael unless all is lost.'  
  
She didn't meet their eyes. 'Ok. Fine. His sword was sticking through me. I was dying. I didn't have any other choice. You happy?'  
  
The others registered shock. 'Why didn't you bloody tell us about this dream? If it is a foretelling of the future, we're gonna need time to be able to prevent this from happening. You should've told us.'  
  
'I didn't want to worry you over a dream. Besides, when I had it we had just fought Oranis, so I thought I was just really tired.' She turned to Harry. 'Is there someone around here who can tell us exactly what is going on?'  
  
'I don't know. Why don't you tell me? I have no idea whatsoever why someone from a dream just stepped through the wall of my dormitory with her companions and pointed a sword at my throat.' Harry replied, slightly sarcastic. He really wished someone would tell him what was going on.  
  
'No need.' Dumbledor stepped from the doorway. 'It appears you all have had a rather busy night. Miss Granger, I believe that the girl's dormitory is on the other side. Given your experiences this night, I will not punish you for being where you are not allowed. But you would be well advised to return to your bed before it is discovered that you are missing.' Hermoine flushed, and hurriedly left for her room. 'Now would you guests please follow me? I will try to fill you in on what exactly is the current situation. As for you, Harry, and you, Ron, I suggest you get some sleep. You have class in a couple of hours, you know. Please tell no one what has happened.'  
  
Harry and Ron glanced at each other. Were they dreaming or something? What on earth was going on? Finally Ron shrugged. He turned over and went back to sleep. Harry waited for a bit, half expecting someone else to appear out of thin air before finally dozing off.1. The Book of the Dead (Garth Nix's book: Lirael) "Even as it cut, the sword melted and red fire streaked up into Lirael's hand. She screamed as it hit, but hung on, putting all her weight and strength and fury into the blow. She could feel Orannis in the fire, feel it in the heat. It was seeking its last revenge on her, filling her with its destructive power, a power that would burn her to ash. Lirael screamed again as the flames engulfed the hilt, her hand now no more than a lump of pain. But still she held on, to complete the breaking. The sword broke through, the sphere split asunder. Even knowing she would fail, Lirael tried to let go. But Orannis had her, its spirit kept momentarily whole by the thin bridge of her sword, the last remnants of the blade between the bridge of the hemispheres. A bridge to her destruction. 'Dog!' screamed Lirael instinctively, not knowing what she said, pain and fear overwhelming her intention to simply die. Again she tried to open her hand, but her fingers were welded to the metal, and Orannis was in her blood, spreading through to consume her in its final fire. Then the Dog's teeth suddenly closed on Lirael's wrist. There was a new pain, but a clean one, sharp and sudden. Orannis was gone from her, as was the fire that threatened to destroy her. A moment later, Lirael realized that the Dog had bitten off her hand. All that remained fee of Orannis's vengeful power was directed at the Disreputable Dog. Red fire flowered about her as she spat out the hand, throwing it between the hemispheres, where it writhed and wriggled like a dreadful spider made from burned and blackened flesh. A great gout of flame erupted and engulfed the Dog, sending Lirael stumbling back, her eyebrows frizzled into nothing. Then, with a long, final scream of thwarted hope, the hemispheres hurled apart. One narrowly missed Lirael, tumbling past her into the loch and the returning sea. The other flew up past Sabriel, to land behind her in a flurry of dust and ash. 'Bound and broken,' whispered Lirael, staring at her wrist in disbelief. She could still feel her hand, but there was nothing there save a cauterized stump and the burnt ends of her sleeve. She started to shake then, and the tears came, till she couldn't see for crying. There was only one thing she knew to do, so she did it, stumbling forward blindly, calling to the dog. 'Here,' called the Dog softly, in answer to the call. She was lying on her side where the sphere had been, upon a bed of ash. Her tail wagged as she heard Lirael, but only the very tip of is, and she didn't get up… Sam found Lirael a moment later, curled up in the ash, the carving of the Dog nestled in the crook of her handless arm. She held Astarael- the Weeper- with her remaining hand, her fingers clenched tight around the clapper so it could not sound.'  
  
The Clayr had seen it. The seers had called Lirael to see what they saw – a task that pained her more than she let on, for she had grown up as a Clayr and yet was treated as an outsider- and so the task began. They had seen Sam, the prince and Lirael's nephew who was gifted with enchantments and a powerful charter mage, making a portal that led somewhere else. They could not see where but for snatches – a black haired child, battles, and the unmistakable taint of free magic. The Clayr had seen them going and so they must go. Sam began to create the portal, while Lirael made the arrangements for her absence. In a land troubled with necromancers and uprising Dead, the person who sent the dead into final and absolute rest was a necessity. She could not be easily spared, even if she was only the Abhorsen-in-Waiting. Finally all the preparations were made, however, and the portal opened. They stepped through.  
  
Lirael arrived first, shaken by the taint of free magic, and immediately went for her bells. Free magic – magic not bound by the charter – was dangerous and often evil. She sensed no malice, but that was no indication of safety. The room was dark, with a number of four-poster beds. A dormitory? She had heard Sam and Nick, who had gone to school in a non-magical area talk of such things. Yet she was not so sure. The strange child of her dream so long ago bothered her. It had just been a dream, right? She had a feeling she was in over her head in this strange land. Then the stranger called 'Professor Dumbledor' asked them to follow him. She did, still apprehensive, but wanting to know what on earth was going on here. The old man explained about the war they were having, a dark lord returned from death. Lirael realized that if this man spoke the truth, she was honor-bound to help. She could not leave them to the ravenges of the Dead, dream or no dream. But how to stay inconspicuous? Dumbledor had a very interesting solution.  
  
'I have a number of doses of Anti-Aging potion left over from the Goblet of Fire contest. If I give a small amount to each of you, you can easily blend in with the fifth years – I would like you to keep an eye on Harry, if at all possible. All you need to do is take a small amount each day. You obviously have magic, seeing as you were able to transport yourselves here, so I think you should be able to duplicate the effects of our wands if the professors do not try you too hard. I can introduce you as transfer students from another school. That would also explain your accents. I would normally not go through this charade, except that with our other guests already staying here I do not want to alert the many of Voldemort's Informers that anything odd is occurring. This will provide you with a very good alibi. Now, all that's left is the Sorting. We will do that right now.' The next morning, Dumbledor had a curious announcement to make.  
  
'May I please have everyone's attention?' Dumbledor stood up and began. 'I have the distinct pleasure of announcing that three new students will be joining our ranks. I am sure that you will all be kind and helpful to them as they try to settle in. I present Nickolas Sayre, who has been sorted into Ravenclaw. A tall and gangling boy with blond hair and spectacles walked over nervously to join the Ravenclaws. 'Lirael Abhorsen, who has been sorted into Gryffindor.' Another young lady, tall with long raven black hair that concealed her face stepped forward. She walked to the Gryffindor table and sat, looking at no one. A sword hung at her waist. 'And finally, Sameth Wallmaker, also into Gryffindor.' This boy had short and curly brown hair, and he also carried a sword. Harry was not exactly surprised to discover that they were his three nighttime visitors. He had thought that they were older, though – Lirael had seemed at least 20. He supposed it must have been a trick of the light. Talk resumed around the hall. Lirael hid behind her hair, talking to no one. She hated talking to people, and stayed away from human contact. This was a result of being the only sightless Clayr in the Clayr's Glacier. The life of the Clayr revolved upon their ability to see the future – so Lirael had never really belonged.  
  
Sameth, too, did not talk to many people. However he did not avoid human contact as his aunt did – he was already beginning to make some friends among the Gryffindors.  
  
Nick was scientifically examining the Great Hall. He already had a number of experiments he wanted to try as soon as possible. He felt the free magic around him but having grown up in Ancelstierre, which had no magic whatsoever, he was not particularly bothered by it. As a precaution, however, even Nick wore the sorceress mail armor gethre- stronger, lighter, and more durable than ordinary chain mail. Sam had spelled the armor to invisibility, so that it would go unnoticed in normal situations. Dumbledor had given them their class schedules, and so Nick followed the rest of his class towards first hour – Potions.  
  
Lirael and Sam were also headed towards their first hour. Charms, taught by Professor Flitwick, was their destination. Along with the rest of the Gryffindors they trod along down the corridors.  
  
'Do you know what this charms is?' Sam asked nervously.  
  
They were approached by Harry, Ron, and Hermoine.  
  
'Hello.'  
  
Hermoine planted her feet in front of Lirael's, preventing her from moving forward.  
  
'Who are you? What are you doing here?'  
  
'I am the Abhorsen-In-Waiting. Who are you?' stated Lirael with her usual abruptness.  
  
'Hermoine! We have to get to class!' interrupted Ron.  
  
'As if you care!' huffed Hermoine, but she let the matter slide.  
  
In Charms, which they had with the Slytherins, they were practicing enchanting objects. Harry was paired with Neville, Ron and Hermoine were together, and Lirael and Sam were partners. Malfoy's partner was Blaise. One person would hold up the object to be enchanted, the other was supposed to charm it. At least that was how it was supposed to work. After the fifth time Harry had been transformed into a giant Parakeet by Neville (though neither he nor Neville had any idea how this occurred – Neville was no good whatsoever in Transfiguration) Harry realized that Flitwick was really trying to give them practice in taking charms off each other. In fact, only Hermoine and Sameth, the new kid, seemed to be having no trouble at all. Ron kept turning Hermoine different colors… Lavender had sprouted feathers… it was a disaster. Harry couldn't figure out how Sam was doing so well. He was making the completely wrong arm movements, and wiggling his fingers behind his back. But the rock that Lirael was holding kept levitating. Lirael had destroyed the first one with a blast of fire – no, no, no Ms Abhorsen, we are trying to enchant, not destroy the figures – and Harry hadn't even seen her wave her wand. I wonder who she is. Harry thought. There was something otherworldly about her, a look that made her too grown up for her age. A haunted look in her eyes… one who had seen death and lived to tell the tale. After the lesson, once all had been returned to their proper forms – I have no idea how Ron got knocked out, honest Professor. He should watch his tongue in the future don't you agree? They headed to the Library. As always, Hermoine wanted to figure out exactly what was going on.  
  
'I know its no big deal- Professor Dumbledor would never allow anything bad in these walls. I am quite curious, though. Aren't you, Harry?'  
  
'Ah. Thought I'd find you here, Lirael. I guess you still haven't quite forgotten your days as Second Librarian to the Clayr, can you?'  
  
'I want to figure out what is going on. All this Free Magic! I can barely think, much less act coherently. Reminds me almost of Orannis except its not quite so… malevolent… I guess. I keep expecting a Stilken or something to jump out at me. Besides, you're one to talk, Mr. I-Want-To-Be-A-Scientist. Magic does not exist. "It can all be explained through man's tendency to make up reasons and myths for that which they do not understand!" She quoted an ironic smile on her face.  
The young man looked somber.  
  
'We've all changed so much. Too much, really. We were headed home from a match when the dead hit. I should have realized then that something was odd… instead I put blind faith in the scientific principle and almost unleashed untold horrors on our world.'  
  
'It wasn't your fault.' She said, softly. 'None of us really knew what we were doing.'  
  
'I am the one who trusted Hedge. I set Orranis free. He almost destroyed the world.'  
  
'Orranis had possessed you. You had no choice. Besides, it all came to nothing anyway.'  
  
'You lost your hand.' He pointed out. 'You lost the Dog. Countless people died. I died.'  
  
'Sam made me a new one. The Dog sent you back. It is not your fault.'  
  
She hugged him. 'Come on, Nick. Let's go find Sam. I'm guessing I can use the Mirror to figure out what happened here anyway. This library isn't half as good or as interesting as the Great Library of the Clayr.'  
  
'What do you mean, what happened here?'  
  
'Can't you feel it? Oh, you don't have the sense. Countless people died here. It's like a great portal to Death. It creeps around me; I can't help but feel it. If this VOLDEMORT as they call him here wants to take Hogwarts, he has the channel to his minions right inside these walls. I want to find out what caused this. It can't have been natural. Natural occurrences don't try to suck me into Death. I can feel it all the time, more so than usual. I think I should bring my bells with me, which means I'm going to have to spell them into invisibility too. Let's go find Sam. He's better at enchantments than I am.'  
  
He brushed her hair away from her face. 'Why do you keep your hair like that? I never see you do it at home,'  
  
'Old habits die hard, I guess. Usually when you see me I've been fighting, so I have it pushed out of the way. Back when I was Second Librarian, I didn't mind the inconvenience and I liked being able to hide behind it. But I don't know how to talk to people.'  
  
'You're not a coward, I know that.'  
  
'It comes from being the orphan Clayr who never had the Sight. I was an outcast among my own people. I didn't have the Sight, so I couldn't relate to them and went out of my way to avoid those who had what I so wanted but never had.'  
  
Harry Ron and Hermoine exchanged glances. What was this all about? Who were these people?  
  
Lirael and Nick rounded the corner and ran straight into the three.  
  
Lirael and Nick rounded the corner and ran straight into the three.  
  
'Uh-oh.' Harry thought. 


	2. Lirael's Tale

Hey! I'm sorry I took so long with these next chapters! to make it up to you guys I have a number of ch. up now.   
  
The acidic scent of Free Magic floated about her. Her sense of Death tingled, chilling her to the bone. Charms had been a disaster. As she had readied a perfectly innocuous floating spell, her mind had slipped and she had grasped what she had when fighting her first Stilken – Fire. Luckily no one had been hurt. Sam was at least able to keep his head, but he was a wallmaker and his talent was enchantments. Afterwards, Lirael had gone to the Library. She was immediately disapointed. Unlike the huge Library of the Clayr, where danger lurked around every turn, this was a large room. Though the books were interesting, the only ones looking really likely were in a restricted section – well, she knew how to get into those, didn't she.- the rememberence of slipping unnoticed into rooms no second librarian should have been able to enter was bittersweet. In all of her encounters, the Disreputable Dog had been with her, urging her on to more risk and excitement. She had first met the Dog after accidentally freeing a Stilken – a malevolent Free Magic beast. She'd ended up in the Infirmary over that one. The Dog was gone. Only the soapstone carving remained, and Lirael still hadn't the heart to see if she could resummon her friend and companion. She was all too afraid of finding out that her only friend for most of her life was truly and finally gone. She had searched Death for the Dog, of course. But the Dog left no trace when she didn't want to be found. A tear slipped down her cheek in remembrance of the being.  
  
A soft hand brushed it away. She looked up to see Sam's friend Nick. Nick had been possessed by Orranis, tricked into freeing the Free Magic being. He had died, but had been brought back by the Dog. They had all lost so much in that fight. All grown up a hundredfold.  
  
They headed off to speak with Sam. With a bump, Lirael walked right into Hermoine. The girl who had questioned her earlier. The girl who had obviously been listening to the entire conversation.  
  
'I think we need to talk.' The tall boy with black hair and glasses announced.  
  
With a sigh of regret – life was obviously not getting any easier – she signaled her approval.   
  
A loud cough issued from beneth her legs.  
  
'Is anyone going to invite ME?' asked Mogget.  
  
Ignoring the children's gazes of astonishment, Lirael turned to the cat. 'Of course, Mogget. I thought that that was implied. For the oversight, how about some fish for supper?'  
  
The cat jumped up on her shoulder. 'That sounds reasonable.'  
  
'Hey! I've been wondering where you all got to!' Sam cried, ignoring Madam Pince's look of disaproval. He noticed the others. 'Er- what's going on, exactly?'  
  
'That's what we're all trying to figure out.' The bushy-haired girl – Hermoine, was it? – replied. 'Who exactly are you people? And why on Earth are you here?'  
  
'It's a rather long story…' Lirael began.  
  
'We have time. Here, let's go somewhere we won't be overheard.' Hermoine replied sensibly.   
  
'We come from another… world, I guess you would call it. I don't know why we must be here, exactly. Only that the Seers on our world - the Clayr, as they are called – Saw Sam making the portal, and then Saw us coming here. Since they've only ever Seen about two Visions of me before, and both turned out to be rather important, we realized we had better do as the Clayr saw us doing. It is always best to listen to the Seers anyway.  
  
Our world is organized slightly differently than yours is. The Great Wall separates the Non-Magical part of the world, where no magic exists and the people live much as your Muggles do, from the Old Kingdom – where magic is the very life of the land. No tecnology can exist on the Old Kingdom side of the wall, but while we seem to be backwards and old-fashoned, we have very powerful magic. To those who are not born in the Old Kingdom – and in fact to even those who know what precautions to take and how to go about life in a dangerous land – death soon comes walking.  
  
Long ago the magic in our land was bound to a Charter. All Charter Magic is bound to the symbols and sounds of the Charter, except for the Free Magic. Free Magic is the type of magic you use, basically. It errodes the Charter Magic, and is only practiced by those who work evil in our world. Free Magic creatures are dangerous and deadly. Free Magic Sorcerers often dwell in Necromancy and will always have a corrupted Charter Mark.' Here Lirael parted her hair across her forhead to reveal a rune-like mark on her skin. 'This is a charter-mark. Mine is uncorrupted. If you are ever meet another person with this mark or one like it, touch it immediately. You will know if it is corrupted, believe me. If it is, RUN. Do not ask questions, just run and find one of us or your professors.'  
  
'Do you think others will try to follow you?' Harry asked, puzzled.  
  
'Possibly. I allready know of one who has – we followed him, actually. He is a malevolent spirit that I fought some time ago. I believe his name is… Voldemort.. or some such in this world.'  
  
'Why are you called the… Abh.. Abhorsen?' Ron asked, curiously. 'It sounds like some sort of title. Are you royalty? You seem pretty young for any other title.'  
  
'It is a title,' Lirael said, with a small smile at Ron's confusion. 'I am actually around 25 in your years. Dumbledoor asked me to keep an eye on you, though. This seemed the easiest way to do that.'  
  
'What does it mean?'  
  
'It is a title passed down from generation to generation. I told you about the Free Magic sorcerers that dwell in our world. I must put the Dead they raise to rest…'  
  
'It might not seem like that much to you, but the Abhorsen must battle death until she herself succumbs to it. It is a never-stopping, thankless job. Each time she goes into battle with the knowledge that this might be her last. It takes someone very brave to take the job.' Sam stepped in, glaring at Harry, Ron, and Hermoine, who were exchanging incredulous glances.   
  
Then Lirael stiffened. 'Sam, did you feel that?'  
  
'What?'  
  
'Never mind, I must've been mistaken. I thought someone opened a gate-'  
  
This time Sam felt it too. In a moment he was on his feet. 'Below. Somewhere in the Dungeon area!' He turned to Harry and Ron. 'Go get Dumbledoor. Tell him that there are intruders in the dungeon. We should be able to handle this, but tell him to take what measures he feels necessary.' Without a word, they took off towards Dumbledoor's office, the tone of Sameth's voice giving them extra speed as they sped along. 


	3. Nick's Tale

Nick was used to this by now. He and Lirael were especially used to dealing with Undead – Sam hated the things and feared them. He (Sam) could not get over his near-death experience with the Necromancer Hedge. Though Nick had at first scoffed at the idea of Magic – after all, he came from beyond the wall and had been raised to deal with Scientific Notions. His time in the old Kingdom had radically altered his viewpoint. There was nothing like being tricked into bringing back the World Destroyer, Orranis, and dying when it the attempt succeeded to shake his faith in science. Since the time after he was brought back to life by the Dog he had worked closely with Lirael and Nick in their fight against the Undead. His newfound ability as a charter mage of some ability allowed him to follow the other two more experienced warriors into battles.   
  
He worried especially about Lirael. The strain of being Abhorsen – nay, Abhorsen in Waiting, for Sam's mother was mercifully still alive and fighting – was telling on her. He had seen the ring of red- pulled from her old Second Librarian of the Clayr robes- in her bag. She had left the often dangerous Library for a yet more dangerous role, and while she would not give up her work for anything, there were shadows in her eyes which should not have been there. The charter-built hand that Sam had made Lirael was just another reminder to him about how much she had lost in her fight against evil; he had seen her rubbing it as if it itched at odd moments as well. They neared the spot where the gate had been opened, and it was time to put such thoughts behind him.  
  
The first task in any possible battle against the undead was to set a Diamond of Protection, and this was done quickly. The narrow corridor meant that the Diamonds around each of them created a wall of force that the undead could not breach- so much the better. Each drew their blades, flashing with charter symbols, and Lirael got ready to draw her Bells. Sam readied his pan-pipes, less potent than the Bells but still they would do against the lesser ones. Nick slipped into the charter, reading his mind to unleash the charter-marks of destruction upon the foul beings who even now could be heard coming their way.   
  
The squish of rotting feet, the scrape of mangled bone and limb, could be heard echoing off the walls of the subterranean corridor. Through the dark gloom, illuminated by few torches this far into the bowels of the castle, dark shapes moved. The first rank of undead, pressed on by their fellows, careened into Lirael's Diamond of Protection. Their shrieks soon died away, as the second rank met the same fate. They kept coming in this wasteful fashion for quite a few minutes, until even Nick knew that something was not as it should be. Either the Necromancer who controlled these was very weak and far away or there was some other reason that the undead were wasting themselves in this fashion. It became clear to him when he saw Lirael's face become drawn, at the same time as her Diamond of Protection inexplicably flickered. It just as suddenly flickered back into existence –but not before the undead pressed forward and, with claws extended, tried to tear Lirael to shreds until the Diamond flickered back into existence. The yowls of undead who were suddenly in two smoking halves, or who had had arms and legs severed was dreadful.   
  
Why had her Diamond failed? Even this press shouldn't have been enough. It was unheard of… her shield flickered again, and came back on. Nick frowned. If Lirael's protection from the undead failed, she would be stuck up against Sam's Diamond with no where to turn. If she even noticed: frost had formed on her body, a sure sign that she was in Death searching for the Necromancer who was behind this. While there her body had no protection other than the Diamond…  
  
Nick and Sam began flinging charter marks like mad at the dead, but they kept on coming. A major problem with the effectiveness of their spells was the fact that their targets were, after all, dead. A flaming charter mark might kill a man, but burning a large hole in something that's already dead just makes it madder. The only way to kill the beasts was to simply tear the body they inhabited to shreds. The Diamond around Lirael began flickering with more rapidity, and several deep cuts appeared on her where undead managed to get an arm or leg through the field and attack before the protection resumed. Lirael did not respond, still deep in the river of Death. Whoever is doing this is good. Thought Nick. They know exactly how we work: if they get Lirael than the rest of us don't really stand a chance. If she catches him in Death, though… he felt only pity for the man or woman. Lost in these thoughts, he stopped with the magic for just a second, and a larger rush of undead surged around them. Suddenly, Lirael's Diamond disappeared. Completely. As if it had never been. Even the burning marks scratched on the floor vanished. With a howl of triumph from the undead, Lirael vanished.   
  
At the same time, both Sam and Nick dispelled their protections and wadded in, swords drawn. Sam blew his pan-pipes for all he was worth, and many undead heeded the call. Yet even so, the ranks continued to come, rotting and decaying, with no sign of any end. Lirael was still gone from sight, he could only hope that she was not dead. He and Sam were pushed backwards, further and further from where she must lie by the press of the bodies. 


End file.
